


Happy Birthday, S

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany finds the gag gift she bought Santana for her birthday backfiring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, S

"Happy birthday, S," Brittany said, touching her glass to Santana's, the dark red liquid swirling and setting up dancing circles of pink-tinged light on the ceiling of their apartment. It was late, and usually at this time at least one of the tenants above them was playing pop music, and one of the children below them was throwing a tantrum. Tonight, though, there was only the sound of soft jazz coming from the speakers, and Brittany thought to herself happily that it was well worth the extra money she'd spent. She'd conned their neighbours into believing they'd won a gift that could be exchanged for either a dance concert or a sleepover at the museum's dinosaur exhibit. It had probably been one of her brightest ideas. Especially when it turned out that the college-aged kids above them were more interested in the dinosaurs, which was by far the cheapest of the two options.  
  
"This has been the best birthday," Santana said, wiggling her toes in her stockings, glad to be free of the high heels she'd been wearing. “Ever,” she elaborated, as Brittany’s hand squeezed her arm.  
  
"You enjoyed your 'surprise' party, then?" Brittany asked, looking very comfortable with her legs curled up underneath her body, and her body snug against Santana's.  
  
"Yes, thank you," Santana said, looking at her sidelong.  
  
Brittany laughed, and shook her head. "You're hopeless. I did  _try_  to keep it a secret."  
  
"No, you're hopeless," Santana told her, disappointed that Brittany knew she hadn’t pulled off the surprise. "You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it. I thought the surprised act I put on was worth at least one Oscar, personally."  
  
"It was pretty awesome," Brittany agreed. "But you can't fool me, babe."  
  
"No, I guess I can't," Santana sighed, but she couldn't stay disgruntled for long. Brittany's arm settled around her shoulder in the classic move used by teenage boys in cinemas everywhere, and Santana tilted her face towards her, purple stained lips twitching upwards. "Are you trying to seduce me?" Brittany's eyebrows raised innocently, using the arm around Santana to point at herself enquiringly, brushing past Santana's breast on the way. "Yes you," Santana said, laughing, her eyes darkening at the touch she was quite sure was not at all accidental. "The port, the mood lighting, the music...I think you have a plan."  
  
"A plan? No," Brittany said, shaking her head emphatically. Then she tilted her head to the side, mischief in her eyes. "It's more like a well orchestrated plot, really."  
  
Santana laughed, grasping the nearby hand and pulling it down to warm flesh. Brittany's port sloshed in her glass, and she nearly didn't care about whether or not the crystal glass fell to the floor. "Your plot needs to fast forward. You've been teasing me all night."  
  
"You gave as good as you got," Brittany pointed out, leaning towards Santana, unable to stop her hand from circling, her thumb hooking itself under Santana's bra. "If I remember correctly," she said, then paused and had to clear her throat as Santana's tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips. "You were the one playing Pictionaire on my thigh at dinner."  
  
"Your reaction when I wrote 'fuck me now' was pretty much the best birthday present of the night."  
  
"Speaking of presents," Brittany said, moving away abruptly and reaching for something behind them. Santana had to blink at the sudden cold, but Brittany was back within a second, the port bottle in her hands. "This," she said, handing it to Santana, "and the glasses. They're yours."  
  
Santana had been admiring the glasses earlier: they looked antique and were etched with flowers, and the port...she looked at the date, and had to do a double take. "Brittany!"  
  
"Uhoh." Brittany winced at the use of her full name, screwing up her face in the apologetic way that she knew usually made Santana melt.  
  
"Yeah, uhoh," Santana said, purposefully hardening her heart to the dimples on Brittany's cheeks. "How much did you pay for this? The vintage is ancient!"  
  
"Yeah, Dow's Vintage Port, 1912," Brittany said, pointing to the label helpfully. She didn't say how much it had cost her, though, and Santana was still staring. "It's not as bad as you think it is."  
  
"Britt, we've talked about this, I won't let you spend all your-"  
  
"We both know we've talked about it, let's not ruin tonight by talking about it again," Brittany interrupted. "Please," she added softly, touching Santana's cheek in the gentle demonstration she knew Santana was helpless against. "I only get a few times a year when I can spend money on you. You've got to give me some slack on your birthday. How many times are you going to turn twenty four?" They'd had this argument many times before; it was one of the only big things they'd ever fought over. Brittany was making a lot more money than Santana was, now that she was a professional choreographer and all Santana had was her place at one of the best law firms in the city. Brittany tended towards extravagance when she was buying gifts, and Santana had had to put her foot down several times before this. She was more than a little suspicious that Brittany had bought her a non-returnable present on purpose.  
  
"Once, but Britt, I'm serious about this..."  
  
"I know. Just birthdays, I promise." She paused for a second before adding, "And Christmas." Santana couldn't help smiling, but she shook her head, leaning back into her and brushing their lips together. Brittany's shoulders relaxed, thankful that Santana hadn't asked about the port glasses. Instead of deepening the kiss as Santana expected her to, though, Brittany pulled back. "And anniversaries."  
  
"Oh for Christ's sake, shut up and kiss me."  
  
Brittany couldn't deny that order, so she didn't, the leather couch squeaking as Santana was pushed back, Brittany's mouth hot and soft and wet and so...so…fuck...Santana gasped as Brittany's hand snaked under her shirt, tickling her sensitive stomach on the way to somewhere even more sensitive...so fucking  _good_  on hers. Brittany sat back up suddenly, and Santana's eyes opened slowly, her head feeling fuzzy. Maybe Brittany had drugged the port, because she was fairly sure her brain shouldn't feel like it had just been dropped in a deep fryer.  
  
"And Valentines," Brittany said, face completely serious as Santana's eyes finally managed to track to hers. Santana lay still, feeling her heart beat erratically. She sat back up slowly, the sounds taking a while for her to comprehend. Brittany was playing with her. That was not allowed without reciprocation, as had been proved by the Pictionary incident, and many others before that. Brittany just didn't seem to learn.  
  
"You already got me a birthday present, you didn't need to get me two."  
  
Brittany hadn't been expecting that, but she went with it. "That wasn't a real gift," she pointed out. "Obviously. The rest of the guys got you vodka, a penis straw, and lingerie of a really badly misjudged size; I had to stick with the theme."  
  
"So you bought me a sex toy?" Brittany's hand was still underneath Santana's bra, pushing it up uncomfortably, but Brittany's confusion was definitely worth it. Santana Lopez, back in the game.  
  
"Handcuffs aren't exactly a sex toy."  
  
"Oh really, now?" Time to raise the stakes, and get rid of the discomfort. Two birds one stone and all that. Santana took Brittany's hand out from its hiding place, adjusting her bra so that it was comfortable once more and bringing Brittany’s hand up to her mouth. "I can think of some very..." she sucked one of Brittany's fingers into her mouth, watching Brittany's eyes glaze over. She had no idea why this worked as well as it did - it did next to nothing for her - but it was a consistent winner with Brittany. She kissed the tip of her finger fondly. "Interesting things to do with a pair of handcuffs."   
  
Brittany hardly waited until Santana was finished speaking before putting two hands on the back of Santana's head. "I love you." Santana loved the way Brittany said that, completely serious and eyes intent upon her face, as though it was the first time she'd said it, like this was new.  
  
"I love you back," Santana said, the game dropping away for a minute. The game was fun, but this moment was real and they both knew that it meant too much to play with. Brittany took a deep breath, which, the first time Santana had seen her do, had made her laugh into Brittany's oncoming lips. She'd thought it was because she was going in like a submarine, but she'd discovered since that it had nothing to do with actual breathing capacity. (Brittany had a lot of that, which Santana was appreciative of.) Brittany hadn't explained what the breath was for, but Santana had figured out that it was to steady herself, so that she didn’t kiss her then rush straight to fucking her. Brittany’s hands tightened in her hair, firmly drawing her in. The position was awkward, leaning forwards with her legs crossed, but Brittany's kiss was fierce and possessive and this was what she'd been teasing Brittany for, this intensity and passion that she'd only ever found with her, and really, the underwear she was wearing wasn't suited to still being worn when this wet. She was the first to break it off, her breathing shaky.  
  
“Bed?”  
  
“Bed,” Santana confirmed, unravelling herself from Brittany and getting off the couch, holding her hand tight.  
  
“Bed’s this way,” Brittany said, as Santana’s hand pulled her in an unexpected direction.  
  
“I know, need to pick…” she rummaged in her silver party bag by the door, passing over the vodka, the penis straw, and the up-one-size on top and down-one-size on the bottom lingerie. “Something up,” she said, coming up with a small box.  
  
“S…”  
  
“Yeah, babe?” Santana questioned, tugging on Brittany’s hand.  
  
“That really was just a gag gift. I didn’t actually mean for it to get used.”  
  
“I don’t believe you,” Santana told her. “There are cheap ones that look a whole lot less comfortable than these. You would’ve bought those ones if you didn’t want to use them at some point.”  
  
“S…” Brittany repeated.  
  
“Oh come on, like you didn’t masturbate to the idea of using these with me, after you bought ‘em.” Brittany opened her mouth, but nothing came out, looking at Santana like she’d grown an extra head as she closed the bedroom door. “So, who was cuffed in your little fantasy, then?”  
  
Again, words failed her, nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “I’m not  _kinky_  or anything. Really, I didn’t buy these for you to…”  
  
Santana was about to laugh at the way Brittany had said the word kinky, as though it were something to be ashamed of, but suddenly realised that she was more than a little embarrassed. She tossed the box onto the bed instantly. “Hey, babe, it’s alright if you don’t actually want to use them. I just thought it’d be fun,” she said, shrugging. She lifted her hands to Brittany’s face, the backs of her hands gently stroking.   
  
Brittany sighed and relaxed, her hands resting on Santana’s hips. “It might be fun,” she agreed reluctantly.  
  
“It might,” Santana agreed, grinning.  
  
“I just don’t want you to think that there needs to be, like, whips and leather involved.”  
  
Santana laughed. “Really not my thing,” she said. “I’m more into…” she stepped closer, feeling the heat from Brittany's blush as she undid the buttons of Brittany’s shirt. “Pleasure than pain.”  
  
“Right. Me too,” Brittany said, nodding along, watching Santana’s nimble fingers quickly and effortlessly undo the buttons she’d had to fiddle with for ten minutes earlier in the night. Santana laughed, quite sure Brittany didn’t have any idea what she’d just agreed to.  
  
“So. Cuffs?”  
  
Brittany hesitated, then nodded, kissing her quickly on the lips. “It’s your birthday. What do you want?”  
  
“I want you,” Santana told her. “Other than that, I don’t care.” She slid Brittany’s shirt from her shoulders, the expensive silk slipping down into a pile on the floor. Santana sucked in a breath, only remembering to let it back out again when she felt the tightness in her chest. “On second thoughts, you cuffed to the bed until I’ve fucked you enough to be satisfied sounds good right now. I swear the only time you spend money on yourself is when you’re making sure you look good for me.”  
  
“Only good?” Brittany asked, with a hint of a pout. “I’ve been saving these up for your birthday for ages.”  
  
“Oh, more than good,” Santana said, the tantalisingly revealing bra doing absolutely nothing to quench her raging libido. “Wait, these? There’s more? I do believe I may not survive this.” Brittany smirked, one hand moving from Santana’s hip to settle in between their bodies. She popped the button of her own jeans, her hand pushing into Santana’s pelvis, eliciting an actual whimper. “Okay," Santana said breathlessly, "so this is the moment in time that whether or not you’re handcuffed to the bed, I actually have to make you come like, right now, before I spontaneously combust.”  
  
“You’re the birthday girl,” Brittany said, grinning as Santana pushed her back onto the bed, and laughing outright as Santana fell on top of her, a thigh conveniently positioned between Brittany’s legs. The box was digging into her back, and she fished it out from underneath her, bucking up into Santana’s leg as she did so and biting back a moan. She raised it in front of Santana’s face, and raised an eyebrow. Santana smirked, and took it from her hands.  
  
“Thank you,” she said, opening it. Instructions and box fell to the floor haphazardly, and Santana produced a pair of snap on handcuffs, passing it through a rail on the headboard of the bed. “You okay with this?”  
  
“Sure,” Brittany said, bucking again to be back in contact with that leg. Santana was looking at her enquiringly though, and Brittany realised she’d just been asked a question. “Uh, repeat that?”  
  
“Are you okay with this?” Santana asked slowly, smirking at the noise Brittany made as she moved her knee away.  
  
“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Brittany said, her eyes following Santana's leg before snapping back to her eyes. “How does this work?”  
  
“Here,” Santana said, managing to get both of Brittany’s wrists attached to the headboard with only a few false starts.  
  
Brittany looked up at the cuffs, moving her hands and feeling the vibrations as metal clinked against metal. The circumstance might be new, but the feeling was almost familiar. It was a sort of uncertain tension that Brittany hadn’t felt with Santana since the first time they’d done this; it had been messy and awkward but good because of the giggling and the heat. Neither of them had let the awkwardness get in the way of getting what they wanted. Santana’s weight shifted on the bed, and Brittany’s eyes returned to Santana just in time to catch the shadows caressing bare skin as she turned back around. Brittany’s first reaction was to try and keep her eyes on Santana’s face and away from the lace and skin, until she realised that it wasn’t necessary for her to pretend here. Her eyes dropped, and she blinked slowly. “Wooo,” she said, underneath her breath. She cleared her throat. “Whose birthday is it, again?”  
  
Santana laughed, the deep, breathy chuckle that always set Brittany on fire. “Like you said, something I’ve been saving up for a special occasion.”  
  
“You’re absolutely breathtaking, San,” Brittany said, her voice soft and admiring. That expression came into her eyes that Santana almost couldn’t bear it hurt so much, so she leant down to kiss it away.  
  
“Says you,” Santana said, her tone light, but her face serious, drawing back, and looking to Brittany’s restrained hands. She frowned. “We didn’t plan this very well.”  
  
“We didn’t? I thought it was going quite well so far. Or would be, if you'd give me back that gorgeous leg of yours," Brittany said, raising her hips to make her point.  
  
Santana hummed happily at the display. “I’m going to have some…problems.” Santana put two fingers on the top curve of her breast, almost spilling from the encasing material.  
  
“Problems how?” Brittany asked, shifting so that Santana was palming her instead.  
  
“Problems…” Santana moved the hand, touching across her sternum and onto the other breast, losing herself for a second in how smooth and…it was almost buttery, Brittany’s skin, glossy as it reflected the light above them. The first few times they’d done this, they’d done it in the dark, until Santana had decided that it was much better this way, getting to see the satin of Brittany’s skin rather than just feel her way across it. Santana’s lips came down to kiss the point where her fingers had just been. “Problems,” she repeated, because it had been a while since Brittany had been concentrated on what she was saying. The spot she’d kissed was now tinged red, and Brittany’s eyes were closed. Santana didn’t speak or move until Brittany’s eyes opened again. “Problems,” Santana repeated once more, this time stalling because she’d completely lost her train of thought. How was it that one look could generate so many interesting mental pictures? “Because of this.” Santana plucked at the bra ineffectually, and Brittany shrugged as well as she could manage.  
  
“You don’t need to get that off to get me off, San, I thought you knew that.”  
  
Santana rolled her eyes at Brittany’s light teasing, thanking, not the for the first time, whoever the genius was who invented front clasp bras, and sucking in a breath as her breasts were revealed. “God.”  
  
“You are such a boy,” Brittany said fondly, wriggling slightly as the material bunched uncomfortably. “You really don’t need breasts for sex, San.”  
  
“When they’re yours I do,” Santana replied, smoothing out the bra for her and kissing one gently, just below her nipple. She received an instantaneous moan. “Fuck, I love you.”  
  
“You love my breasts you mean,” Brittany said, but her voice was breathless and it was obvious she wasn’t really complaining.  
  
“Well, them too,” Santana said. Her hands were cupping them, but her eyes were intent on Brittany’s face. “I love you, too, though. I love everything about you…I just…you’re the best birthday present I’ve ever had, B. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just…I hope you know that.” Her voice was rough, and Brittany blinked, feeling her own eyes sting as she saw Santana tearing up.  
  
“San…” Brittany said softly, wanting to take her face in her hands and kiss her, she looked so surprised at her own reaction.  
  
“Well that’s embarrassing,” Santana said, her laugh thick in her throat as she ducked her head and rubbed her eyes dry on her own shoulder.   
  
“No, San…” Santana stopped her with such an intense kiss that Brittany felt her head spin, and she tried to pull away but found herself unable to.  
  
“San…” she got out, when Santana pulled back. “Don’t…I need…Oh, Eh-ehss…” Brittany drew her name out into a two syllable long hiss. Santana’s hands were everywhere and her body felt so tight and her mouth was on her neck and Brittany lost all coherence. Brittany was usually very quiet, which she said was down to years of living in a house with her parents and paper thin walls, but in her need to tell Santana not to feel embarrassed she was repeating her name breathlessly as Santana moved down her body. “S…” she said, still incapable of getting past the first part of her sentence, scrabbling for more words and not finding them. Suddenly Santana’s fingers were right there (and when had she taken her jeans off? God, Santana had ninja sex skills), and her tongue was circling the area she needed it most, and Brittany gasped, her whole body arching off the mattress, the clasps around her wrists and Santana’s warm hand on her thigh the only things stopping her from levitating. “Fuck,” she groaned out, teeth clenched and body shaking, and Santana stayed with her, looking up at her handiwork with a smirk as she gently rode out the rest of her orgasm with her fingers. Brittany lay still for a few moments, trying to pant her breath back into normality.  
  
“That was quick.”  
  
“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Brittany said, unapologetic, after Santana's face came back into focus. “I think I prefer to be able to touch you when I want to, though.” She said it with a hint of a pout, tugging at her hands and hugging Santana as best she could between her knees.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know,” Santana hummed, taking a still wet finger and running it around the edge of one of Brittany’s areolae, head propped up on one hand as she watched her nipple harden intently. “This has its advantages.”  
  
Brittany’s breath caught in her throat, and all she could think about was getting out of this so she could pounce on top of Santana and kiss her senseless. "Uhm. S? Darlin'? You didn't by any chance find a key in that box, did you?"  
  
Santana looked up from her position on Brittany’s stomach, and grinned.


End file.
